Letters to My Daughter

The following is an essay I wrote on Sept 23, 2003 for Intermediate Spanish. Probably my best piece of writing, English or not. Durante el transcurso del género humano, la creencia en Dios ha persistido. La religión es una institución necesaria y beneficiosa para la humanidad. Creo que las personas que no pertenecen a ninguna religión pierden un aspecto importante de la vida. Si ellos quieren vivir en la ignorancia o no tratan de aprender nada sobre Dios o sobre la religión, pues ellos no participan en la experiencia colectiva humana. Es natural que un razonamiento humano quiera saber la verdad de la vida. Por supuesto, la vida es más que el trabajo en la oficina, las ganancias y el dinero; hay Dios en su corazón. La religión no limita el desarrollo de una persona, sino que sirve para inspirar y animar la gente. Para mí, la religión es la única realidad. Entonces siempre estoy consciente de Dios. Todo afirma mi fe: los libros que leo, la historia que aprendo, la gente que conozco.

This past Monday I exchanged with my friend Shah Eleven Minutes ( Coelho) for Conversations with God (Walsch) . Although I am still in phase 2 of (re)reading the book, I have some thoughts I need to juggle around. 1. God communicates to us through feelings, thoughts, and experiences. These are "tools of knowing" (4). But of course not all thoughts, feelings or experiences are derived from God. We must be able to discern what is our Highest Thought, Clearest Word or Grandest Feeling from all the other feelings, words, thoughts and experiences that result from other causes. How do we get to this moment? Is the Highest Thought or Grandest Feeling intuitive? What if there is a constant disconnect between how we feel and what we think? What if we believe rationality trumps experience and emotion? What then? 2. According to Walsch, Joy, Truth, Love -- these are the products of your Highest Thought, Clearest Words, and Grandest Feeling, respectively. These are what we ought to striv

http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2005/750/feature.htm

"You confuse yourselves with your actions, even with your thoughts. You barely understand that in order to be, it should not be necessary to act, and that the world changes you far more than you change it." (Malraux, The Temptation of the West, 1961 ) The world consists of wonderful people who enter and exit your life. When you let them enter, your breaths seem more thoughtful, your behaviors more scrutinized, your ideas challenged, and sometimes your brain orgasms from happiness. But when these individuals leave, you experience equally significant things like confusion and hurt. It seems okay to let someone in, someone trustworthy, good, honest, and not concern yourself with the end. As things exist in your mind, there is no harm. Intellectual promiscuity, then, is not so bad. To have intimate, intelligent conversations into the morning is not troubling, either. Sometimes when good people enter, it is not necessary to act, or specifically to resist. When people enter, their

"So rescue yourself from these general themes and write about what your everyday life offers you; describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty - describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects that you remember. If your everyday life seems poor, don't blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator there is not poverty and no poor, indifferent place. Try to raise up the sunken feelings of this enormous past; your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where the noise of other people passes by, far in the distance. - And if out of this turning-within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, then you will not think of asking anyone

The following is a character analysis of Z, 20-year old NYU student. He plays soccer and reads sports magazines. When I describe him to others, I never get past the fact that he is extremely pretty. In terms of his character, I can't offer anything substantive. I've excerpted our conversation because there is a lot to be said about this silly boy. AZi93: so how can we be friends AZi93: if you are always mean to me Z: me Z: u always birate me Z: why do u think i dont talk to u that much Azi93: you berate yourself Z: cuz every convo is like u suck , ur not interesting Z: ur not good enough Z: ur boring Z: ur stupid AZi93: if i thought that, i wouldnt talk to you Z: u have no wits AZi93: z i think your lovely AZi93: i told ou AZi93: im harder on the people i care about Z: yea AZi93: and you know im kidding most of the time Z: well just to let u know dont waste ur time Z: cuz im not a good friend AZi93: why not? Z: well if i havent become a good friend by now it prolly wont happen

A friend told me once that he didn't believe in saying goodbye, only in saying "until next time" or "see you later." I thought of my friend today as I watched "The Goodbye Girl," a 1977 Oscar-winning romantic comedy about two roomates who fail to resist the temptation to fall in love. It was not the content of the film that struck a mental chord of remembrance, but really the ending itself. Eliot is leaving Paula for the opportunity to do a film on the West coast. Having been dumped many times before, Paula suspects that he will never come back while he insists that he will return. And he does. After his flight is delayed, he takes a cab back to their shared apartment to reemphasize to her again that he will come back. He also asks that she come with him. Paula knows she cannot leave. She has a job and a ten year old daughter to consider. But she exclaims that she is elated only that he asked her at all. In this final scene, Paula stands outside her fi

I love my parents. I believe my parents are the two greatest people I will ever meet in my life. Everything about them fills me with wonder: my mother for her love, sacrifice, beauty, devotion to her children and husband, her culinary skills, her character; my father, for his life stories, his courage, determination, smartness, dimples, and generosity. I feel that they are both individuals of faith that are sent by God as a Mercy to me, and my brother. I spent Wednesday through Friday morning at my best friend Moumita's house in Astoria. Strangely, however, I spent more time talking with Moumita's Mom, who I adore as Auntie, than I did with my friend. Auntie and I have much in common, almost as much as Moumita and I have in common. We love people. We love to laugh and are often direct with our questions and criticisms. We are both friendly and easy-going. The threads of our conversations are circular. She'll ask me what I want in a husband and I'll ignore the question a

There are moments in friendship when your friends surprise you with the simple insight they have on your psyche. Zaheer is one of those people. I really wish we were related. If only I had a sister to introduce to his brother... AZi93: do you think im weird AZi93: thats taking too long to answer magicalretart: lol magicalretart: no i dont think u realize ur normal magicalretart: and when u do u get scared magicalretart: cause u dont want to be normal AZi93: hmm magicalretart: haha i nailed it didnt i? AZi93: you always do magicalretart: i love nailing u This was posted to remind me of simpler things.

Early Sunday morning, my friend Moumita and I trekked together to Central Park to get tickets for Shakespeare's "As You Like It." We asked for directions every few yards, and followed winding pathways into the man-made forest that is Central Park until we arrived at a line that was a good 1.5 miles long. It was only 11AM, and people had brought their blankets, books, food, and water in anticipation for these coveted (i.e.free) tickets for Public Theater. Moumita and I brought none of those things. I carried my forest green camping backpack (in order to color coordinate with the trees), but it carried none of the amenities necessary for a entire day in the park. We had only each other's company and a library book called The First Love and Other Stories by Harold Bradkey. As I sat the three hours in the sun waiting for the box office to begin selling tickets at 1PM, I read a short story called "A Well Regulated Impulse." A story about the dysfunctional relati

I spent my entire fall semester organizing, mobilizing, surveying, educating and empowering young South Asian Americans for the 2004 election. As a Fellow with South Asian American Voting Youth ( www.SAAVY.org ), I was part of a national campaign that registered over 1500 people, and mobilized twice that number to the polling booths on November 2nd. I did this organizing work for many reasons--personal, political, social reasons why I believe this sort of work is crucial in the SA community. The basic premise, of course, is that full democratic participation is good. Given my new found classic conservatism, I cannot wholly accept this premise. Moreover, I do not think people can vote for revolutions through the ballot. Candidates that are extreme in any way, or markedly different, are rarely successful in American political history. In times of war, people have relinquished freedoms for the illusive notion of security. We are socialized to fear the Other, the scary Arab or Muslim man w

Today I wore my bright yellow YSS t-shirt that read, "I vote for revolution." Upon seeing my t-shirt, Shreya, my better twin, asks me: " Do you think revolution through the electoral process is possible?" Gee whiz, what a conversation starter, especially at 8:35 AM, I thought. I answered that the possibility of revolution is relative to the context of where and when the revolution happens; and also what type of revolution one speaks of. But my simple answer was "No, definitely not here."Given the earliness of the morning, my case was pretty insubstantial. I referenced some obscure trend that showed a correlation between electoral participation within democratic countries and the corruption within those governments. The largest democracies (How do we measure democracy?) are in countries that are most unstable. I jokingly cited Asia as an example. But really, India and Puerto Rico were examples of large, dysfunctional democracies. Although my t-shirt reads

Lifehouse. Seems my own arrogance has knocked me off my feet again When you know I'm crawling to you as fast as I can First teach me to walk Then I'll learn to dance for you Like an honest clumsy clown Tripping along the way Cause I am reaching for you But my arms are long enough And I am running for you If I could go a little faster And I am crying to you But I can't hear my own voice I am waiting for you And trying not to fall asleep now And I am clumsily dancing away this fear I am stumbling closer to you and I am Tumbling over my pride I will be a fool for you What are you thinking as you look down on me Are you frustrated with my inconsistency Or intrigued that I can find the will to get back up or Maybe all of this is simply amusing Cause I am reaching for you But my arms are long enough And I am running for you If I could go a little faster And I am crying to you But I can't hear my own voice I am waiting for you And trying not to fall asleep now And I am clums

Sadia's Manifesto on Crushes (to be further developed): Inspired by the following conversation, I will attempt to explain why I laugh when boys say stupid things. When a boy tells you how he feels (which is not necessarily stupid), he does so often to relieve himself of these feelings. He wants to be sure that he is clear about his feelings so that he can feel better about himself, so that he does not carry these feelings in his chest. And often so that he can move on to the next girl. At the particular moment, his declaration might be genuine. But the benefits of declarations like "I love you" or "I like you" or variants like "I want to be with you" are all ultimately irrelevant to the receiving object of these declarations (i.e. Sadia). These are irrelevant because these feelings are transient. These feelings pass with time. Crushes are temporary fixes, like intoxicants or orgasms. They feel good but cannot be sustained, especially when they are unre

July 4th marks the beginning of summer and the beginning of ME. As a child, I used to finish writing my list of all that needed to be accomplished by this date. It marked the beginning of my comprehensive self-development project, as well as the official beginning of a new metaphoric season in my life. No such list was compiled this year. I feel like I'm still working on things from last year. I watched the fireworks display from the United Nations building today, thanks to Nafisa's connections. As we were lying on the blanket, and the sky became ablaze with gunpowder, Nafisa and I exclaimed that we smelled Bangladesh. With the Hudson to our left, the noxious gases from the fireworks slowly traveling into our nasal passages, we both remembered Bangladesh. It was the odor of putrid, rotting water, of humidity and pollution. But it was also a place we both remembered as the Homeland. Components to this excellent evening: Thai food in the village; meeting new people; my lime Kurta

The following is a conversation I had with my adopted older brother, Zaheer. We've known each other for maybe four years, but he only recently became my friend. He thinks he knows me better than I know myself. Specifically, he does not trust that I can continue to make platonic male friends. He's wrong of course. Because the Sadia Method has worked for 19 solid years. This is an excerpt from a much longer conversation. AZi93 (2:08:16 AM): i just want to MAKE FRIENDS magicalretart (2:08:26 AM): a life friend AZi93 (2:08:28 AM): nope magicalretart (2:08:29 AM): cause ur sadia magicalretart (2:08:31 AM): u say one thing AZi93 (2:08:31 AM): haha magicalretart (2:08:33 AM): and u mean another AZi93 (2:08:40 AM): what? where is this coming from? magicalretart (2:09:50 AM): the heart AZi93 (2:10:10 AM): you're absolutely right AZi93 (2:10:53 AM): fahad you know me so well [sarcasm] magicalretart (2:12:23 AM): haha yeah thats why in 2.5 yrs magicalretart (2:12:28 AM): ill need to g

Last night, I watched Saleque Khan's "A Man Died" at the Theater for the New City (a block from Sahara East). As "special guests" of the Lighting guy, my friends and I enjoyed a 45 minute play about the existential angst of a Bangladeshi immigrant named Sadek who gradually dies. The play begins with Sadek learning about the death of another Bangladeshi man, a peaceful man according to the Times, a man that sold incense on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn. The unfortunate death of this other man fills Sadek with more than sympathy. He becomes angry that a life could be taken so quickly, so effortlessly. We are then introduced to Sadek's wife and children, who played their roles well. The son is a good-for-nothing hoodlum who calls his sister a "bitch" for wanting to take the remote control. He goes to community college, shows no ambition, no drive, watches tv as soon as he wakes up. His sister gets into Princeton, comes home late, rides with boys in thei

The following is taken from Senator Barack Obama (D- Illinois) commencement address at Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois on Saturday, June 4. I have retitled his address: "What will be your place in History" http://www.alternet.org/story/23240/ "Every one of us is going to have to work more, read more, train more, think more . We will have to slough off some bad habits -- like driving gas guzzlers that weaken our economy and feed our enemies abroad. Our children will have to turn off the TV set once in a while and put away the video games and start hitting the books. We'll have to reform institutions , like our public schools, that were designed for an earlier time. Republicans will have to recognize our collective responsibilities, even as Democrats recognize that we have to do more than just defend old programs. "It won't be easy, but it can be done. It can be our future. We have the talent and the resources and brainpower. But now we need the political